Pa
by MildlyInsane
Summary: Sophia and Daryl bond over the topic of fathers. Rated T for mention of child abuse.


**S****ummary:**_** Sophia and Daryl bond over the topic of fathers.  
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_**I had to write this story twice... The first time all but 600 words of it disappeared just as I was almost through writing it... It was so frustrating... But I re-wrote it, and here it is. I hope you like it. :) (P.S. - I haven't forgotten about my other Walking Dead story, if you're reading that one. I have the last two chapters nearly ready. I just need to proof-read them. They should be up soon.)  
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_**Here you go:  
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_**xxxxxx**_

The night was cold. Cold enough that Daryl opted to stay outside for a while by the small fire he'd kindled rather than sleeping in one of the cars, a tent, or the RV like all the others. But Daryl wasn't sleeping. Instead, he spent his time listening intently for the sound of any walkers in the nearby vicinity while also busying himself with making wooden arrows for his crossbow. He had lost a few during the chaotic massacre at their camp last night; One had been broken, and the other completely lost - he had no idea where it had gotten to...

Since then, the group had buried their dead and moved on. They were on their way to the CDC, to try to find out if there might be any cure for this whole mess. One of the members of their group, Jim, had been bitten, and thus infected. His only hope was a cure, and they needed to find it quick, or it would be too late. It seemed to be a group consensus that if a cure did exist, people at the Center for Disease Control might know something about it. But Daryl doubted there was a cure out there. This wasn't just some harmless outbreak, like Swine Flu or West Nile. It wasn't something that looked like it was going to be easily fixed. The way he saw it, the end of the world was here, and they had two choices - do their best to keep living in this new world, or give up and commit suicide. Curing everyone and returning to what they all deemed 'normal' wasn't among their options.

If he'd really believed there was a cure out there, he would have insisted that they drive through the night in order to make it to the CDC in time to save Jim. But since he was fairly certain this mission was doomed anyway, he didn't even argue when most of the rest of the group decided it would be smart to camp out for the night. Even Jim himself hadn't argued. Either he was too sick to realize how sick he was, or he just didn't care anymore. Maybe he welcomed death. After all, once the man was dead, and then reanimated, at least he wouldn't have to worry anymore. Daryl doubted the walking corpses worried about anything... They didn't seem to have anything other than killing and consuming on their minds.

The camp site was mostly silent. Occasionally, he'd hear someone shuffling around in one of the tents, or would hear someone cough. There were also occasional sounds of a tent zipper being undone or a car door being slowly opened and closed - likely when someone couldn't wait until morning to take a piss. He didn't know why these people didn't just take care of that before going to bed.

Daryl stiffened and listened as he heard footsteps nearby. Part of the reason he was so good at keeping watch, and at surviving in general in this world, was due to the fact that he was very perceptive of his surroundings. Nothing was going to sneak up on him, because he could hear it well before it had a chance to do so. But what he heard now didn't sound like a walker. It wasn't stumbling or dragging its feet like a lot of them did. And it wasn't growling or panting. It just sounded like someone walking softly - trying to be as quiet as they could. Walkers didn't bother with trying to remain silent.

He scanned the area. The lights in the RV were off. The lights in the cars where some of the group had decided to sleep were off as well. There were no candles or flashlights lighting up either of the two tents in use. Whoever was up didn't want anyone else to know they were out and walking around.

Daryl squinted into the darkness in the direction of the few tents that had been set up. The last sound he'd heard prior to the footsteps had been a tent zipper, but that had been probably ten minutes ago. It didn't take anyone ten minutes to piss. Someone over there was acting weird. Maybe someone else had been bitten and didn't say so. Maybe they were going off in the woods so they could die there without risking killing their family or friends when they reanimated.

He continued staring toward the tents, waiting for whomever it was to step into his line of vision.

He didn't have to wait long. Within a few seconds, the footsteps had neared and the person responsible was near enough that the light from Daryl's small fire gave away her identity. Sure enough, it was one of the kids. Sophia, if Daryl remembered her name right.

For a moment, she just stood there, looking in his direction, but not making any movement toward him. What was she up to? Was she sleep walking? Should Daryl say something to her? Did she even see him there? She was clutching the cheap looking doll one of the Mexican kids had given her before their family had gone off on their own way, and she was staring at him. It was actually kind of irritating.

"Your mama know you're out here?" Daryl finally asked.

The girl shrugged and stepped a few paces toward him, "no," she said in a small voice.

Daryl turned back toward his fire but kept the girl within his sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see her standing awkwardly and silently. Damn it, he hated kids... Maybe 'hate' was the wrong word... But he sure as hell didn't like talking to them. He had enough trouble talking to adults. He typically had no idea whatsoever how to converse with kids. They were strange to him. They acted weird; they were needy... He just wasn't into it.

"Don't you think your ma would want you staying inside with her instead of running around out here in the dark?" Daryl kept his gaze on the fire as he tried to convince the girl to leave him alone.

Sophia took a few more steps so that she was close enough that she could have reached out and touched Daryl's arm if she had wanted to. She paused for a brief moment but then proceeded to plop herself down next to him, "probably," she finally said, "but what she doesn't know won't hurt her, right?" Daryl glanced at her. She was smiling slightly, but that smile quickly faded when she examined Daryl's expression, which was none too amused.

"What do ya want, kid?" Daryl finally sighed.

The girl sighed and then looked up at him, "Mr. Dixon?" she asked, looking like she had something really important to say.

"What?" Daryl glared down at her.

She frowned and averted her eyes, "you know how everyone was sort of scared of your brother?" she started, but still wouldn't look at him as she spoke, "and he'd get into fights with people and stuff?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes. He wouldn't ever hit a child, or a woman for that matter... But he wondered where this girl's bravery had come from. He wouldn't expect anyone in their camp to dare speak ill of Merle right to his face. Especially not a little kid, "what about it?" he said dryly.

"Well..." she paused, "I know he's your brother, and you're sad he's gone... But... Do you..." she breathed in and out slowly and then looked up so that her eyes met his, "I mean... Do you feel kind of relieved that he's not around anymore? 'Cuz he caused so much trouble and was kind of mean?"

For a moment Daryl didn't know what to say. What was wrong with this kid? Why would she ask him that? It was bad enough that everyone else was against Merle... but what good did she think it would do to try to get Daryl on their side? "No," he frowned, "Merle's my brother. He's the only family I got. Practically raised me. Maybe he didn't always do a good job of it, but look who raised him," he stopped himself right there. He didn't need to talk about his psychological problems, especially not to some little girl, "I never, for one second, felt glad he got left on that roof-top. He's my brother, and I miss him."

"Oh," Sophia looked away again.

"Why the hell you ask me that for anyway?" Daryl furrowed his brow and looked down at the girl.

"I just," she paused, "Well... I thought... that maybe..."

Daryl had to fight the urge to sigh loudly and tell her to just come out with it. Why was she so hesitant to just tell him why she was here? Sitting and waiting for her to build up enough courage to continue was frustrating, but he waited it out.

"I just thought you might understand," she stood up and looked down at him, "Because... I kind of feel glad my dad's gone..."

Daryl stared up at her as she looked back at him. Her eyes shined with tears and her lip, set in a pout, was trembling slightly. He sure hoped she wasn't going to start crying. Dealing with a crying child was not something he was going to stand for. He'd just leave her out here if she started bawling.

"I guess I'll go back to sleep," Sophia offered as she turned to leave.

Daryl frowned. He could understand why the young girl would feel relief that her father was dead. He couldn't say for sure how the man had treated his daughter, but he knew Ed wasn't kind to his wife. Everyone in their group had witnessed the man yell at or hit Carol on numerous occasions. It was very possible that he might have done the same things to his daughter... Or things even worse. If he'd physically and verbally abuse his wife right there in front of everyone, what would he do behind closed doors?

"Wait," Daryl called after the girl. He reached out and grasped her wrist gently.

Sophia instantly pulled her arm away from him and stared down at him with wide eyes.

He raised his hands up defensively, showing her he meant nothing by the gesture, "I understand," he said, "I know this might be hard for you to believe, considering how swell of a guy I turned out to be," he attempted to make this conversation as light as possible, "but my dad wasn't so great either."

"Really?" Sophia's eyes were wide as she sat back down and faced him. This time, she didn't look away as though she was embarrassed or shy. She looked right at him, as though she was quite genuinely interested in whatever he had to say, "what did he do?" she asked.

Daryl cleared his throat. It wasn't often anyone took any sort of interest in his life. Of course, he usually didn't bring any of it up. He wasn't sure how much he should tell this little girl. He didn't want to go into too much detail. She was just a kid, after all. She didn't need to hear about the violent things his father had done. But then, maybe she would be able to relate and would feel comforted that she wasn't the only one with a shit excuse for a father... He decided to keep his tale brief and concise, mostly because he didn't like talking about himself, "My pa drank a lot," Daryl started, "and I mean A LOT. An' you know how people get when they're drunk, right?" she nodded, "he'd yell and scream, throw things around, get pretty violent sometimes," the girl seemed to be listening intently as Daryl continued, "but most of tha time he wasn't even around. That's why Merle pretty much raised me. But ta be honest with ya, I liked it a hell of a lot better when my pa wasn't there. When he finally drank himself to death, I didn't much care. Didn't even go to his funeral. And ain't no one was even there to make me feel bad about it neither."

"You didn't feel guilty?" Sophia asked, her eyebrows furrowed with worry, "no one thought it was weird that you didn't seem too sad?"

"I don't think guilt was what I was feelin'," Daryl thought back, "and I was sad, in a way... But not 'cause I missed him. I was sad that I didn't never have a pa worth a damn to begin with. I mourned not because I missed him, but because I never had him in the first place. I missed what he shoulda been, not what he was."

She nodded, "Oh... I think I see what you mean."

"Don't let no one make you feel guilty," Daryl stared at her, "anyone says you should be sad and you aren't, just means they don't know what the hell they're talkin' about. Anyone gives you any shit, you tell 'em ta fuck off."

He almost smirked as he saw the girl's eyes widen, "oh... I couldn't say that," she shook her head, "My mom would be pretty mad. We don't get to talk like that at my house."

Daryl laughed softly, "What house?" he gestured around them, "I think watchin' yer language is the least of your concerns. Yer ma needs to lighten up."

"Maybe so," she shrugged, "but she really doesn't like words like that... I think I'll stick with other words instead. And I don't think I'll have to worry about anyone saying anything about this... 'Cause I'm not telling anybody else... I told you 'cause you seemed like you'd get it. Other people wouldn't get it... Carl's got a nice dad. He'd think I was terrible if I said anything. And Eliza isn't here anymore... And Mom would probably think I was the worst daughter ever..."

"Your ma might understand you a lot better than you think," Daryl offered.

"I don't know..." Sophia hesitated, "...maybe I'll tell her sometime... But not yet. Promise you won't say anything to anyone about what I said, okay?"

"As long as you won't say nothin' about what I said either," Daryl agreed. He didn't want word to get around and for people to start feeling sorry for him or for the women to start trying to mother him and fix him.

The girl smiled and held out her hand. Her fingers were all curled into a fist, except her pinky, "Pinky swear?"

Daryl reluctantly lifted his hand and locked pinkies with her, "Yup," he said.

"Thanks for listening to me, Mr. Dixon," Sophia smiled down at him, "and for talking to me. It's nice to know someone understands me a little," she bent forward slightly and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him lightly in an embrace.

Daryl froze. He honestly couldn't remember any other time in his life when someone had hugged him. He never figured he'd have to deal with this situation. Should he hug her back? Was it weird to hug kids? No one had ever hugged him when he was a kid... He didn't have to think about it long, because she had pulled away from him after a few seconds.

"Remember," she whispered, "not a word."

"Yeah," Daryl agreed, "'night."

"Good night," she smiled back at him and walked back to her tent, unzipping it very slowly and then ducking inside and out of sight.

Daryl sighed and stared back at dying embers of the fire in front of him. What the hell had just happened? Did he just make friends with her? He hoped she wouldn't become clingy. There was a reason he hadn't ever reproduced. He didn't want to take care of kids. And he sure as hell didn't want other people's kids following him around. That was a responsibility he never asked for and didn't want.

But he didn't regret having talked to her. The poor girl had come from a really awful home. Daryl likely understood her better than any of the other kids in their camp, or any of the adults for that matter. Even Carol probably couldn't understand her completely. Being abused by your spouse was entirely different from being abused by your father.

He sincerely hoped Sophia wouldn't feel any guilt over this. She had every right to feel relief that a monster in her life was finally gone. Maybe the girl's life would be better now than ever. If this whole zombie apocalypse brought nothing else positive with it, at least it had ended Ed's reign of terror over his wife and daughter...

Maybe none of them would live much longer. Perhaps they were all doomed. But at least Sophia could sleep soundly tonight, and Daryl probably would too.

His fire had nearly burnt itself out by now, so he felt no reason to waste precious water to extinguish it. He collected the handful of wooden arrows he'd carved and stood up, stretching his arms and legs and walking over toward the small tent he used to share with Merle.

"Good night, Daryl," he heard someone call over to him. He looked up toward the RV. The old man, Dale, was sitting on top of it. As always, he wore his stupid old man hat and had a rifle balanced in his lap.

Daryl had forgotten the old guy was there. Of course, he knew in the back of his mind that Dale was keeping watch... He just assumed people would stay out of his damn business... Needless to say, that was probably too much to hope for among these people. He hoped the guy hadn't heard anything he'd said to Sophia. He didn't need anyone feeling sorry for him, "hear anything interesting, old man?" Daryl glared up at him. If he had, he could at least do Daryl the courtesy of keeping his mouth shut about it.

Dale was smirking slightly but shrugged his shoulders, "didn't hear anything at all."

"I didn't think so," Daryl narrowed his eyes.

"Looks like you made a friend though," Dale called down to him.

Daryl rolled his eyes.

"It's cute," Dale added.

Sighing, Daryl shook his head and turned away, "'night."

"Sweet dreams," Dale called after him.

He crawled into his tent and laid down. Honestly, he was quite exhausted. So he closed his eyes and listened to the familiar night sounds - crickets chirping, frogs croaking... That meant there was likely a water source nearby. He continued listening and assessing the sounds around him until they lulled him to sleep.

**_xxxxxx_**

**_I know this subject is very serious, but I tried to make the story a little bit cute as well. Child abuse is no laughing matter, but I didn't want Daryl or Sophia to feel sad in the end of this. I feel both characters likely have a lot of unresolved emotional issues about their upbringing, but instead of having them cry over it, I wanted them to bond over it and feel better in the company of each other. Daryl made Sophia feel better; that much is obvious. I tried to hint at the fact that Sophia had brought comfort to Daryl as well.  
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**_This story is dedicated to Dale and Sophia - characters who were killed off in the show before their time and who I wish were still there.  
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End file.
